


Coping

by bellarky



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, a bit at least
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 02:45:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2835218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellarky/pseuds/bellarky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy helps Clarke cope after what she's done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coping

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a smutty fic where Clarke get's spanked bc she feels like she needs to be punished (I really just want to write that kink for some reason). But it ended up veering in a totally different direction. I'm not super happy with it, but I feel like it's a waste if I don't post it. All mistakes are mine because this is unbetad.

Killing Finn had changed Clarke.

It wasn't noticeable at first. Sure, you could practically see the guilt dragging her down, but after it was done she had immediately started on her crusade to rescue the delinquents and grounders at Mount Weather. She focused all of her energy on getting her friends back, and like the determined princess she was, she had succeeded. And now, coming up on two months later, everything had settled into some semblance of order and Bellamy could tell that Clarke was starting to crack.

It started off small. She'd be smearing some type of antibacterial stuff on some cuts on his arms and for no reason her hands would go still. Her eyes would glaze over, not focused on anything. But it would only last a moment. Before he could even say her name she'd shake her head gently and get back to the task at hand.

Then she stopped coming to the meetings. It had been decided that a new council would be formed, including a few from the original 100 and the occasional grounder if Lincoln happened to be available for input on certain matters. At first Clarke had sent someone in her stead, saying she was busy with a patient and would catch up later. But after a couple meetings she had stopped sending stand-ins, and didn't bother with excuses. She'd told him that they didn't have to be the ones making the hard decisions anymore, so why burden themselves with it?

He brushed it all off at first, but then one day he was eating dinner and couldn't find her anywhere amongst the crowd. He tracked her down to the med tent and found her alone, reorganizing the medical supplies. He'd tried to get her to join him, but she had shrugged him off, claiming that she wasn't hungry and did he have any idea just how much of a mess the med tent ended up by the end of everyday? If she didn't do this now, it'd just keep getting worse.

He wanted to press the issue, but didn't want to start an argument with her. He didn't know how much she ate during the day, but when they always met at night for dinner her appetite had been pitifully small. They'd talk (or sometimes not say a word at all) and he would watch her push her food around her plate, nibble a bite here and there, then give the rest to the younger kids that were always asking for seconds.

It was starting to show, too. Her cheeks were losing their fullness and there were perpetual shadows under her eyes. It was like she was fading away. She had no presence in the camp anymore. And Bellamy was getting tired of it.

It came to a head one day when Monty came to Bellamy and told him that Clarke had snapped at one of the kids for not resting their sprained ankle as she'd instructed them to do. Bellamy figured he needed to take care of this somehow.

Later that evening he found Clarke, sequestered in the med tent as usual, and told her to come with him.

"Can't this wait?" she asked, fiddling with some kind of medical instrument, "I'm too busy right now."

"No, actually, it can't wait," he said. Clarke's eyes widened at his harsh tone and she nodded her head slightly before putting down whatever was in her hands and stepping towards him.

Bellamy grasped her hand before she could change her mind and led her out of the tent. He didn't let go of her hand on the entire trek through the woods until they made it to the drop ship.

Bellamy wished there was someplace else he could take her, somewhere that didn't have bad memories attached to it. But, he figured this was definitely a better choice than the bunker, and it wasn't like he had a whole lot of other options.

They didn't even bother looking around at the charred skeletons littering the ashy ground. They walked straight into the ship and Bellamy gestured for Clarke to climb the ladder up to the second level. She responded with a look he couldn't decipher and a sigh before climbing up. He followed behind her and shut the door once they were both up.

"What, no grounder tied up this time?" She asked, crossing her arms and looking around the empty drop ship. "Why did you bring me here, Bellamy? What's going on?"

Bellamy stalked across the room to stand in front of her, close enough to touch, and leveled his gaze on hers. "We're going to hash this out. Work through whatever you need to work through. Talk, cry, whatever you need to do." To be honest he wasn't really sure what he was doing. He wanted to help Clarke but he had no idea what she needed, or what he needed to do to help her.

Clarke narrowed her eyes at him. "What do you want to talk about? How I'm a murderer? How I killed someone I was supposed to be protecting, someone I loved? Huh, tell me what you wanna talk about!" Clarke shouted, her voice cracking on the last word.

Bellamy reached out to her, trying to ease the pain she was obviously feeling, but Clarke pushed his arm away and then shoved him backwards. "You think if I talk about it, it'll be like it never happened? You think I can just forget?" There were tears forming in her eyes now.

Bellamy stepped forwards and enveloped her in his arms. He pressed her against him tightly and caressed her hair. Clarke struggled for a moment before sinking against him, her yells of anger turning into sobs.

"I'm sorry, Clarke. I'm so sorry," Bellamy murmured into her hair. He could feel her tears spilling onto his neck and he eased his grip on her. He rubbed her back, trying to soothe her.

She huffed a derisive laugh, lifting her head up and looking at him with bloodshot eyes. "Yeah, everybody's sorry, I know," she sniffed and lay her head back against his shoulder. "I know I've been out of it lately. I just don't know what to do. Sometimes the weight of everything gets too heavy."

"Well, I don't really know what to do either, but I'm here for you, you know that, right? Whatever you need, you just have to ask. Even if you just want to get away for a while and smack me around some more."

She smiles slightly and brings her arms up to settle on his back and shifts slightly against him into a more comfortable position. They stay that way for a while, just holding each other.

When they get back to Camp Jaha later that evening, she smiles at him and squeezes his hand before ducking into her tent. Bellamy knows that it will take time for her to work through everything, that she'll never go back to being that girl that stepped off the drop ship on day one. But at least she knows he's there for her.

**Author's Note:**

> I might try to write a second chapter where there is some actual sex. I'd planned on them getting it on when they got to the drop ship but that didn't feel right. We'll see, I guess. I'm on [tumblr](http://leaderblake.tumblr.com) if you wanna give me a prompt or anything. Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
